Livin' The Dream

Entry No. 9: Some Kind of Wonderful

katedunlevy — Sun, 23 Apr 2017 12:00:00 GMT

Things are funny sometimes.

People kept saying, ‘you’re going to have a wonderful time’, ‘you’re going to have the time of your life’, ‘it’s going to change your life’ – and I just thought,

How do they know?

The funny thing about it is, I will return home a

different individual then the girl I came here as.

And while I may not have had this huge revelation that my life had changed for the better, or that I had a clear path on who I was meant to be.

But what I didn’t realize is the fact that I have met people here, people who have impacted me in some small way and places that have left in imprint in my life. What I didn’t realize until now is that those small ways have amounted to something pretty wonderful.

I will never be the same.

Margaret, our fantastic cook and friend, is such a wonderful soul. Margaret has not had an easy life, though no matter her hurdles, she always has a smile on her face. Margaret’s husband was a terrible man, treating Margaret much less than her worth. Sadly, it is believed that he was abusive. And though, the story seems a bit foggy, and she could possibly still be married; in light of her past she was able to break free of his grip and create a new life for her and her son, George (20 years old and wants to be a doctor). Margaret now comes into work, every day with no hesitation or grief. Every time I see her walk in the door, she has a smile on her face. It is just her and her son, and that is all she needs.

Well, and maybe some good food.

Thanks to Margaret, I have learned to make traditional Chapatti and the delicious chips mayai (an omelet with French fries) to carry on with once I get home (in hopes of returning to learn more about the wonders in the future).

Ceci, in a nutshell is just such a lovely human being. Though my Swahili wasn’t up to conversational speed and her English was minimal, we managed to get on everyday through the language of laughs. I’m going to miss that laugh of hers – it makes me laugh just thinking about it. Ceci’s laugh its ironically enough like a creepy old man laugh, high pitched and squeal=y but wonderfully so that you couldn’t help but laugh yourself. Ceci is a previous graduate of GHTA from many years ago, she is responsible for cleaning the house to prevent any (more) cockroaches or ants – she also works magic when it comes to getting stains out of clothes. Ceci and that crazy laugh of hers will be surely missed.

Gabriel is one of the three guards who look after the compound (where the volunteer house and school are). To be able to describe Gabriel in words would be a bit difficult for someone who is so animated and full of life. For someone who has been through so much and carries such burden of his family (Since he is the only member of the family making enough money to support himself, he is often demanded of money – Gabriel and his wife have been saving up to buy a mattress, for months, and will continue to do so a little bit at a time). Through it all, Gabriel never faults and he is always incredibly thankful for anything that was given to him, from a strong cup of coffee in the early morning or a can of insect repellent to protect him during the night shift. Over the course of my three months, Gabriel and I bonded over a strong cup in the early morning before the rest of the house woke up and then again, at night where I would share a spray or two of insect repellent for his feet. I must admit, though it was something we might have seen as disposable – seeing his face after I gifted my last can, was a look of pure excitement, and one I am thankful to have been able to give someone.

Janeth is a member of group three, with a high level of English proficiency. She always fights for what she wants and will stop at nothing to get it. What is most memorable about Janeth is the way she greeted me every morning – always saying good morning with a smile on her face. In class, she always remained actively engaged and always made her self accessible when I needed any assistance in explaining mathematics to another student.

When we visited Janeth’s home for one of our home visits, I was alarmed by the life she had led outside of school. Janeth, her husband and their little boy Ian live in a very small room about 40 minutes from school. The place they call home is run by an unpleasant woman who demands a lot of rent for such a small space. When Janeth’s husband gets his paycheck every month, a portion is taken out to support her in-laws – who own their own (very large) home up the road but can’t manage to find work. It is very difficult to see the sharp dynamic between both of their houses and how Janeth and her husband still have to put forth money every month to support someone sitting on a cushion. And while I was completely in awe of how Janeth’s husband interacted with Ian and how there was so much joy in their little family, I realize that it could be altered. Yet, Janeth continues to strive for an education, despite her difficulties at home.

Bahati is one of our hardest working students. Bahati is only in her early twenties but has been in math class, everyday, ready to learn. Over the course of the three months I have been here, we have had a lot of the younger women drop out of the program due to immaturity (or ghosting). What I find special about Bahati is though she is so young, she has the heart of someone much older. Bahati is a single mother to a little one at home and she still manages to go above and beyond, helping out the teachers and students wherever it is needed. I have no doubt that she will do great things.

Elinipe, or in other words, Mama Elinipe – She will most definitely be missed. Elinipe is a wonderful older woman, in her 50s who managed to put a smile on my face every time I saw her. Though at times she didn’t quite understand the math task at hand, she always spoke up, asked questions, and remained engaged throughout the school day. She was a delight to have in class, and it has been an absolute joy teaching her.

Ludwine was such a delightful woman to teach. What started as a struggle to even understand the words coming out of my mouth, or put words onto a piece of paper – ended up resulting in something pretty special. One particular day, we were playing a game I downloaded from Teachers Pay Teachers called Spin, Solve, Color inclass before moving onto a quiz and suddenly it all made sense. She lit up, sat up on her bench and started participating with the biggest smile on her face. Now, she remains engaged, asking questions when she doesn’t understand, and speaking with the English she has learned. She has come so far in these last three months, scoring a 64 percent on her last mathematics assessment and I couldn’t be more proud of her.

Jescer is a present-day warrior. Jescer is by far been the poorest student in the program and though that means having to walk the hour to school, she is still here, everyday, striving. Jescer’s home visit remains a vivid memory, one I don’t plan on forgetting – a daily reminder to how incredibly thankful I am. Jescer’s father once owned property, in Arusha, where the family thrived. But when their world was lost to the bank and their inability to pay off a loan – they moved to a nearby town of Moshi where the five of them cuddle up in a room small enough to be a closet. The place where they live is settled next to a dump with piles high of rubbish, in direct sunlight on the far side of town; where it floods every time it rains and their water supply is rationed. Jescer defies these obstacles everyday and strives to come to GHTA for an education so she can one day open up her own tailoring business. She is a present-day warrior.

Janeth Fadihli, such a strong woman who I admire greatly – Janeth has always been a top student of group one, scoring anywhere from 70 to 90 percent, and often placing her as third of her group in the mathematics class. But when she lost her husband to an unexpected stroke in the beginning of April, her whole world turned upside down. Janeth’s husband was only in his late 40s, and he left her with a fabric shop and massive amounts of debt. But the thing that continues to shake my core is the last words he said to her, before all went silent. That day, the students had received their English quizzes and Janeth had scored a 95 percent.

“I am so proud of you, keep going”

And that is exactly what she did. The following week, she returned to school and though there were tears in her eyes, she was happy to be here. The women of this program are truly wonderful; they pulled any donations they could, even those who don’t have much, contributed to helping Janeth keep her children in school.

It was the best 10,000 TSH (little less than $5, all we were able to contribute)

I had ever spent.

That week, Janeth came to me with a concern that since she had missed a week of school that she would not be able to catch up in math in time for the assessment. In doing so, Janeth and I met throughout the next couple days as I not only helped her get back on track but she pushed herself to make sure she was ready – she got a 94 percent on that assessment. “Thank you, teacher” she said as tears formed in her eyes. This was her sanctuary and she was going to fight her hardest to keep it that way.

Lastly, Rhiannon, the wonderfully sarcastic manager I had while at GHTA.

“You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.”

And it has been something that has stayed with me since our talk during my first week of teaching. Rhiannon helped me to recognize the deeper understanding of how I went about teaching – At first, I wanted to teach everyone, hoping that all of them wanted to be taught and that was it. But it isn’t that simple – while you have those students who will engage in what your teaching and show progress throughout what is being taught, there are also those students who the most they get out of this program is making the choice to come everyday. That is it. They will not be geniuses, and they may not even learn what you are teaching them, but they are here. And for some of them, that’s giving them the opportunity to make a decision for themselves. It has helped me to recognize that this experience isn’t this romantic idea that it’ll all work out, but it guides me where to put forth my energy where it is needed. Rhiannon is not the type of person to hold your hand as you figure it out, nor do you want her to – but without even realizing it, she helped me become a better teacher and I am thankful for that. Rhiannon is an inspiration; she puts everything into this organization, to keep it running. It would not be the same without her; I would not be the same without her.

The Waterfall hike will forever be a delightful memory that I will hold close. Something I am so very thankful to have been a part of.

Lake Chala and all it’s beautiful wonders. I will forever remember sitting in silence as I looked over the majestic landscape in front of me. Existing in a place I would have never imagined. I was finally healthy and most of all, so very happy.

Sitting on the terrace and what had become my space on Sunday mornings to sit in contentment as a read a book and drink the coffee I learned to make with a French press (and drink black) as the sun woke up.

My last Saturday was the perfect send off.

A day removed from the rest of the house, just as I wanted it to be. I must admit, being here, in this house surrounded by a range of ages and different types of personalities, I have become that much more comfortable in my own personality and space. I have recognized traits that I admire and traits that I do not – and that sometimes you don’t get along with everyone, it is okay. I didn’t come here to please other volunteers or necessarily make friends; I came here with a dream to teach in a classroom that provided opportunity to women where they wouldn’t necessarily have it otherwise. That was my mission – but in doing so, I not only became increasingly aware of who I am as a person but also of something outside myself. Like the importance of electricity and how we must conserve it (turn the lights or fans off in rooms when you are not using them), the simple task of asking for things rather than expecting it (something I have struggled with consistently across volunteers), the mere effort of being on time or being responsible for the wellbeing of someone other than yourself (making sure the guards are being fed as much food as we consume or given their coffee/tea in the morning and at night). Or even creating an entire mathematics curriculum, containing 9 Modules so that whomever comes in after me will know what to teach, how to teach it and the students can learn consistently for years to come.

I am able to leave something behind that will continue to help and for that,

I am thankful.

But let’s get back to Saturday

Ben is a volunteer who is going to be here for the entire school year, teaching the women business skills. He is the only volunteer I have formed a bond with over my three months here. I am able to be myself without being silenced by many personalities, and it something I will not take for granted. On Saturday morning, we set out early for Arusha, about two hours away (with traffic). With the windows down and the perfect playlist – we were set. Our first stop was Tanz-Hands, an incredible bakery that employs local Tanzanians with disabilities. With that chocolate croissant in hand, anything else for the day was a bonus. And it just kept getting better and better. When we stopped at the Cultural Heritage Center to see if they would resize the ring that sold me back in March, they did it free of charge. I was finally able to wear the piece of Tanzanite I purchased for myself, for my birthday, and add in some really good coffee and time spent exploring old doors and trunks from all over the world – you have a very happy girl. Top that off with the perfect lunch at Rivertrees Country Inn, where we sat in the warm sun, in a field along a river, drinking some fresh iced tea and indulging in some incredible food (I had a vegetable quiche, which was by far the best food I’ve had while I’ve been here). Then we ended the night at my favorite restaurant called More Than A Drop where I had some delicious pumpkin ravioli before settling to a good nights sleep.

All in all, those who said I’d have an incredible experience that would change things for me–

They were right.

Moshi.

Some kind of wonderful.

I'll be seeing you again.

Photos: Inspiring People Who Have Inspired Me

katedunlevy — Thu, 13 Apr 2017 12:00:00 GMT

Women and men alike, across Tanzania.

Entry No. 8

katedunlevy — Tue, 11 Apr 2017 00:00:00 GMT

Lake Chala and all its wonders –

Wow.

I could leave it at that and it would pretty much have summed it up –

This place took my breath away.

But just saying that would defeat the purpose of writing an entry, so here's to the wonders of lake chala and the perfect weekend spent in the middle of nowhere.

As we drove, from Moshi, down side roads and through villages set along side vast fields of greenery, I found myself getting lost in all that surrounded me (as I often do). It was a Saturday morning, on the 8^th of April, and many children were walking along side of the road, on their own. One particular part of the drive stood out to me and I just can’t give it up. There was a grandmother, mother, and her little one (who couldn’t have been more the six years old) working in the field alongside the road – as we drove up the muddy, bumpy road, they stopped in their work and looked up. The little one waved joyfully at us as we approached. When I smiled and waved back, she smiled so big as if it was the brightest thing in her day, causing me to smile bigger.

Next thing you know, we were stopped in the middle of the road, blocked by a large migration of cattle from one side of the road to the other. They trudged, slipping in the puddles as they continued along side the car, engulfing it as though it remained a burden in their trek.

We continued, speeding along back roads, through rich fertile dirt surrounded by lush 'country side'. Estimated arrival time, 1 hour 30 minutes from Moshi.

The unfortunate thing about Lake Chala is that it once thrived– locals and tourists alike would invade its beautiful landscape for the weekend. Now, since the government entry fee has increased dramatically, tourists typically only visit for the day. Leaving it vacant after sundown. We got to know the older woman who decided to take in the reservation after her son when she retired and she said that she rarely has people camp or stay the night anymore. For those of you who may be traveling to Tanzania in the future, add this to your list.

When we first pulled up to the parking space, we couldn’t see anything behind the mass amount of shrubbery – but maybe they did this for affect? As I walked up the ramp into the oversized hut (made from wood and sturdy bamboo leaves) that sheltered a restaurant, I was floored by all that stood in front of me. The hut sat on top a ridge, overlooking the entire lake with the view of Kenya on the other side.

The pictures don’t even do it justice.

The rolling ridges covered in overgrown green forest, hugged the majestic crystal blue-green water. The tops of the ridges met the clouds with such grace as they rolled in over the reserve. The hut was open and airy, with the view as far as the eye could see.

When the others decided to walk down to the lake, I decided to take the opportunity to just sit alone and read a book, with Lake Chala in my sights.

I was completely content.

With a view like that, how can you not be?

While that would’ve been enough for me, I got to see something I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing in a long time – a storm rolling in.

For someone who loves storms, this was super cool to be able to see.

To watch the majestic, calm water be moved and shifted by the force of wind, pushing it towards the hut as the storm rolled off Kenya’s mountains – the clouds growing larger and darker in color as they moved closer, before it brought the rain in all its swift intensity remains a vivid image in my memory.

When night fell, I watched the sun’s reflection set over the water as it created a golden glow over the ridges. Sounds of birds and monkeys echoed in the background.

We (the other GHTA volunteers and myself) remained the only visitors in the whole place that night. We were able to laugh as loud and play music with no fear of disrupting any other life around us.

We were the only ones listening.

We sat out on the brim of the hut, looking out into the vast darkness as we talked of life, careers (or lack there of), the idea of home and where we have come from – as we rang in Camilla’s 25^th birthday at midnight.

The next morning, I anticipated waking up for the sunrise. Though, to be truthful, I decided not to because I only had been able to catch up on a couple hours of sleep. Though, when I woke up at 8:00 that morning and walked along the path back towards the hut, all that surrounded me remained still.

I was the only one awake.

As I sat in the chair over looking the lake, in stillness, while the rest of the campsite was waking up, I became overwhelmed in the feeling of being thankful. Thankful to not only be able to see this beautiful sight and experience this opportunity as a whole (to live the dream I set out for when I was 18), but for also being healthy – After a bit of a Gardia scare, I am now in the process of recovering back to my self again. Something I might have otherwise taken for granted.

Here's to a reminder - Without sounding cliché, all that you experience holds a blessing of some kind, the key is to find it.

Here's to living these last two weeks here, fully.

And every day after.

Entry No. 7: Inspiring Women, Inspiring Women

katedunlevy — Thu, 30 Mar 2017 00:00:00 GMT

We sat in the living room, as the women started trickling in, gradually.

Sophie is to my right, she’s writing down notes on what to say - I catch a glimpse…

‘Never give up’ it says.

These women are pretty incredible, and even that might be an understatement – Allow me to introduce Sophie, Mery, Lisa, and Nelly.

These women come from different backgrounds, all different walks of life.

They didn’t necessarily come from money, or come from opportunity but these women have created these opportunities to support themselves.

When they got knocked down but they got right back up.

Now that’s something to write about.

I ask you to do one thing before I start – think about all the women in your life, all the women who have inspired you in some way – have you got it?

Hold on to those women, whether they are present or not –

It is something to be thankful for.

The funny thing about this workshop in particular was that I thought it would be romantic in the sense that I’d hear their stories and their struggles and have a connection of sorts to the emotional aspect of it – but ironically, most of it was spoken in (very fast) Swahili, where I couldn’t connect to any of it. This is the translation bits to take away:

Sophie

Sophie, whom you’ve met prior (briefly) is a wonderful woman who always has a smile on her face. A woman who always has a smile on her face, no matter her challenge. It all started when she was a little girl, in a village (not sure where). In this village, she had to walk to get water, 20 kilograms for 20 liters of water… Twelve times a day. Having to walk to school for a total of 7 kilometers each way, or 8 and half miles there and back, throughout her childhood. She found that there was nothing for here there, other than that and that is when she decided to leave the village and follow a priest… but the rest of the story is a big foggy. “How I came to be who I am, it wasn’t easy…” she said, as she very distinctly, smiles with such pride.

Yesterday, Sophie claimed her safari company, run entirely by women, called Matriarch Hills and I couldn’t be happier for her.

Lisa

“You have to have a target, trust your gut and trust yourself,” she said as she placed her hands on her heart. Lisa had a bit of a rough start as well, when she originally came to Give A Heart To Africa she was initially turned away. Not because she didn’t want it enough but they thought she had enough education to go further in her job, which she had working in a salon at the time. Thankfully, Lisa kept coming back until they gave her a second shot at things, and the rest is history. Little bit of messy bits in the middle included losing her job because she couldn’t balance between work and school and losing friends and her boyfriend for her desired choice in occupation… It is presumed that a woman who gives massages is considered a prostitute. Or she sees it as “just taking challenges as opportunities.” And now, Lisa is the proud owner of Lala Salama, a wonderful spa facility in downtown Moshi thanks to GHTA and just opened up a makeup/hair salon on her own terms. She is one proud mama.

Mery

Mery came from a very poor background and has come a very long way. With having little to nothing in her family, she spent most of her young adult years working through holiday breaks so that she could make enough money to go to school. When she was older and settled down to have a family, she found herself without any source of income for almost two years. It was then when she decided to start something within her community – building a home for a family in need of one. She did just that, through means of fundraising and labor. Now she runs a volunteer hostel out of downtown Moshi and helps other women grow their own food, wholesome organic food.

Nelly

Nelly is very pregnant. It’s hard to say how far along she actually is, but needless to say, she’s kicking butt at life while carrying life inside of her.

“You work until you are finished” she said.

Nelly’s story was a new one to me and I am very thankful to have had the opportunity to meet her – Nelly’s family has 14 kids in total. This may sound alarming at first until you hear that her father had three wives (at one given point in time). But when you look at the family, Nelly is the one who is carrying the burden because she is the eldest in the family – This mean she had to plan her money and budget to make sure she can support everyone. A burden no one should have to carry.

In order to do so, she sold Mondazi (a Tanzanian donut made of fried dough) with her mother each morning before going to school. Her mother tried her best, to support those she was responsible for, with Nelly because their father ended up drinking all day til days end. After Nelly went to college, she because a teacher and is now working on building a nursery where she is trying very hard to create a solid ground before her little one arrives.

“Trust in family” she says.

Entry No. 6: Safari Means Adventure

katedunlevy — Wed, 15 Mar 2017 03:35:00 GMT

Safari, in Swahili means to have an adventure.

And that’s just what we did.

An adventure I’ll never forget.

People have been asking - How was it? What was it like?

And the funny thing about it is every time I think about it, I am overwhelmed by all different adjectives and thoughts about what I experienced that weekend, that I really can't describe it.

Maybe Incredible, majestic, beautiful, and also a bit tiring.

It still feels like a dream, honestly – I still can’t believe that something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember, has happened.

Three and a half days, three nights, three parks and one very packed car.

12:10 p.m., our guide Willium is at the gate.

Lucy, Camilla and I were ready. We rushed out of our (finished) classrooms, grabbed our bags and got into the car – waving goodbye to the women as we went. In efforts to avoid getting sick in the car, I opted to sit in the front seat (the others were perfectly content with this). Next stop, Kili Kitchen, one of the graduate’s businesses, for some (delicious) lunch boxes, courtesy of our tour company, Above The Rim. Then we were on our way.

First stop, Arusha- estimated travel time from Moshi, 2 hours.

I was a little taken back by this at first, having already spent so much time getting there and still having a bit of time to drive to Tarangire, still. But when he dropped us at Arusha’s Cultural Heritage, just outside city center, I realized that I was only worrying myself. As it turns out, I was happy we stopped here to enjoy our lunch boxes, not only to see the beautiful place and take it all in but if we didn’t stop, I wouldn’t have walked away with what I had been looking for since I got here.

Tanzanite is a purple-ish blue stone that is only found in the Kilimanjaro Region of Tanzania. Since it has become so popular, it is becoming more and more rare and in this case, expensive. In the cultural heritage of Arusha, there is one man who has made his wealth off of Tanzanite and sells some of the most beautiful pieces for thousands and thousands of dollars. One piece in particular took up the size of my hand and looked like the diamond from the Titanic that sold to China for 2.1 million dollars – crazy.

He not only had beautifully perfect pieces, but also the imperfect ones and it was exactly what I had been looking for. The imperfect pieces were not as clear, not as shiny but they were used to create beautiful rings that sold for a whole lot less than the market price (and for many of you that know me well, you know I would walk out with a ring). I did, and it was exactly what I had been looking for this whole time – I was a very happy girl.

And once the car was packed, we were off to see some elephants, making the day that much better.

Second stop, Tarangire National Park – estimated travel time from Arusha, 2 hours.

As we drove across the African plains, through villages set up along side sources of water, I began to drift into thought. The people of rural Northern Tanzania work and live their lives with next to nothing and are completely happy with it. Houses stand with nothing but a cement base structure, no floor, door or windows, just a few pieces of wood for a bed and whatever else they find necessary. Others in the more urban parts live in crumbling clay homes where they cook their meals from one pot that sits on top of a fire outside. I often find myself talking about how inexpensive things are here, being able to buy a whole two weeks work of food for 40 USD or take a taxi out to dinner for less than 2 USD. But for some, that is nearly their monthly wage – and probably something they’d never spend their money on. I sat there in a safari car, with a man who makes most of his money on gratuity because the total cost of safari usually pretty high to include the increasing price of admission into the parks. At one point during our drive, Willium pulled over the car in front of a group of young school kids. What I didn’t realize at the time is that Willium had saved single-serving yogurt pods in his glove box, which he then gave out to the children as they swarmed the car, reaching their hands in to try to get it before the next kid. As we drove away, the kids all ate the yogurt, scoffing it down like they hadn’t eaten all day. It was then, that I became more aware of the children on the remaining part of the drive – we passed many children along our travels but what I never realized is that they would wave and then stick their hand out. When I asked Willium why, he said that they are often fed or given things by tourists in safari cars.

And it was true, every time I passed a young child, they waved and when I waved back, they stuck their hand out.

Karibu – Tarangire National Park

Welcome.

Time of arrival, somewhere around 4 o’clock

Right away, you are taken back by how beautiful (even the entrance to the park) is. The trees that come to mind when you think of Africa, lined the entryway – creating a tunnel of sorts, as the sun was starting to sink to the horizon.

After we checked in as visitors, we got back in our very packed car and drove down the dirt road to our destination; camp. It felt as though we were the only ones in the park and for a while, it looked like we had been. Until I saw them -

A young family of elephants, walking right in front of our car.

I could not contain my excitement.

A mother, father and their baby – walking in a group, strolled gracefully from one side of the road to the other. And just when I thought they would just continue walking like we weren’t even there, the baby stopped just beside the car and looked at us. To tell you that I was excited would be a tremendous understatement. I had wanted to see an elephant (that wasn’t in a zoo) for as long as I could remember and when I realized that they were just in front of me, not in some dream, I began to get a little emotional. It is an incredible feeling being able to make a dream a reality, especially when the reality is something better than you could’ve possibly imagined.

When we rolled up to camp, we were one of very few cars parked in the parking lot. Willium had directed us to wander and see the camp while they unloaded the car. The best part of camping with a safari company is they set up your tent, in a matter of minutes. That night I was in the double tent, sharing with Lucy. We settled in and then reconvened. It was just around sunset as we wandered over to the pavilion, where as to our surprise, we were drinking tea with a couple of zebras. They were just hanging out, eating, completely unfazed by our presence.

It was all going really well until… HUGE flying beetles intervened.

I am getting itchy just thinking about it.

They sounded like helicopters, hovering until they crash land. Just in time so that you know when to duck. It started to make the dinner very unpleasant because they were soon, everywhere. Our only place of safety became our tents where we very quickly ended up after we were done scoffing food down. Though, to my surprise, I didn’t fall asleep until about 2 a.m. before waking up just shortly after at 4 a.m. Way too hot for sleeping. – Not a happy camper, no pun intended.

Rise and Shine – 7 a.m. breakfast.

Consisting of (really good) porridge, eggs, sweet chapatti and coffee.

7:30 a.m. – Game time.

To give you a break down of everything that happened, at every given moment would be difficult, overwhelming even. But here are some moments that to me, are worthy of remembering.

First mission, find elephants.

And thankful of our driver, Willium, that is exactly what he did. Only this time it was a small herd, with many little ones about a month old who had come to where our car had been parked to find water. They moved with such grace and beauty, that you are sort of mesmerized by their movements. One little one in particular caught my attention, couldn’t have been more than two weeks old. It looked like it was just learning to walk; by the way it slipped and stumbled in the mud. But once it got to the puddle of water at the foot of our car, it chugged through its trunk until it was satisfied. Looking up at us, ears flapping, I was delighted by the sight of seeing a baby elephant, up close.

To make that even better, how about seeing 73 elephants in one spot! When we stopped to use the bathroom, mid-game drive. I stopped and looked out over the valley, only to realize that all the dark spots I saw amongst the grass were elephants! Probably the quickest pit stop ever, honestly, because I was more concerned of getting down the road before they started to migrate across the river. To be surrounded by elephants of all shapes and sizes has become one of my favorite memories, a beautiful sight. As the stood there, eating, we got to see elephant families, babies included, all in harmony.

Lastly, I got to witness thousands of buffalo, migrating from one side of the park, to the other – passing right in front of our car. A sea of black, slowly walking, while grazing as it makes it’s way towards the horizon. Blown away.

Side note: Everyone jokes about safari and how you can tell tourists are coming back from safari when they look like they haven’t showered in days. I thought it was just a joke, but I know what they mean – I actually lost water mid soap-in-hair on day one and found it to be a lost cause the remainder of the time.

Third stop, Ngorogoro Crater Rim – estimated travel time, 1.5 hours.

As we started ascending into the depths of the rain forest, along the rift valley – we found ourselves in the midst of a dense cloud, a torrential storm. Only being able to see just a few feet in front of us, while driving up a steep zigzag, muddy road is an experience in its own but thankfully Willium handled the situation gracefully. Once we got to the top, it was though the cloud created a blanket over the rim, containing the storm within it. After grabbing our raincoats from our packed suitcase (that were thankfully in the car), we booked it over to the food pavilion, which was crowded to the brim with people. We snagged a spot next to a German couple that had just made their way back from the Serengeti. It was only just shortly after our first cup of tea, that four winged insects flooded our space. Grossed out by their lack of distance between themselves and other’s food, we decided to bunker in our tents until dinner was ready (I had the single tent that night). Thankfully, by the time 8:45 p.m. rolled around and it was time for dinner, only a couple insects remained.

Ngorogoro was much different from our last stop – The bathrooms were beyond disgusting (I will not go into detail) but I think it’s safe to say I hardly drank any water. Though, on the bright side, I slept cozy in sleeping bag because it was such a chilly night, perfect for sleeping. Actually, I slept like a baby in comparison to all my other nights here (in Tanzania).

No sunrise, still rain.

Shortly after breakfast, we packed up the contents of our tent into the car and made our way down the mountain into the crater. Another slippery zigzag road handled with care.

That day we saw pretty much any animal you could think of (besides a leopard): Wildebeest, Buffalo, Elephants, Hippos, Pumbas, Zebras, Gazelles, Lions, Lionesses and The endangered black rhino.

Babies included!

Exciting part, get ready.

When we noticed two cars parked on either side of the dirt road, with a wide space in between the two, Willium decided it would be a worthy idea to drive over and see what they were looking at. Much to our surprise, there was a lioness leaning up against one of them. As we drove over, we decided to park farthest from the grass leading out to the rest of the crater – and it’s a good thing because she would later decide it would be a good place for a nap. She lightly strolled over to the spot just feet away from our car, standing for a few moments before settling in to the grass. I noticed that she attempted to bury her face in the grass as much as possible to avoid flies that had been settling on her eyes.

After a full day’s game, after we packed up the car with our camp – it was time to head out.

And funny enough, probably one of the more traumatizing parts of my safari experience happened right as we were checking out of the National Park…

We were idling in the car, windows down just catching up on our phones or listening to music. I was eating a biscuit left over from lunch while looking at messages I had missed from the day when I heard Lucy scream. A baboon was hanging head first through the window on the driver- side door. He was on a mission – A mission to steal the biscuits that were both in my hand and on the dashboard of the car. As the first one hesitated, the second one came up behind and climbed over him. No fear. He crawled over to me, took the biscuits from the dashboard of the car and the remaining from my hand before turning around to the window. Only then did Isaac, the cook who was sitting in the back of the car, came forward and swatted the baboons away. Once the biscuits made it to the floor, it was free for all – an angry, aggressive free for all between many baboons.

That’s one for the books.

Fourth stop, Panorama Safari Lodge, estimated travel time, 1 hour.

At first, I was taken back – I thought we were camping, like we had been the whole time. That was what we signed up for, what we paid for. As we off the main road, down a road off the beaten path, we came up to a beautiful place with African huts set up sporadically throughout the property. These huts were made of clay, shaped similar to teepees. Willium, our guide, had upgraded our accommodation for the last night of our stay because of the leaks we experienced the previous night (I woke up in a puddle the morning of Ngorogoro). And though we felt bad for being an inconvenience or additional cost, we were very thankful for what we had. That afternoon, after settling into our spaces, we walked over to the dining room where the sun peeked through the trees, perfectly. As the sun set, we sat there, the three of us, and enjoyed a beer as we talked of our lives back home and what we aspire to do next. When dinner came around, we were entertained by traditional African drum and song.

Feel good music.

Then acrobats! Holy smokes, was it impressive.

When they were wrapping up, they started pulling the guests who had been sitting at their tables, myself included, to join in on learning how to play the instruments. I learned how to play the xylophone that had been constructed out of wood. I had no idea what I was doing, but we had a lot of fun doing whatever it was that we were doing.

And the morning brought even more sweetness as I watched the sun rise over the Rift Valley Mountains and reflect over the town below. In attempt to explain it but it was the perfect way to start our last day.

Fifth stop, Lake Manyara Conservation, estimated travel time 15 minutes.

As soon as we pulled up, we were welcomed out of the car by a tour guide in training. He showed us around the parts of the welcome center and told us a little bit about the different tribes that settled here and what they did for their king. It was only when he stood in front of (potentially) a ceiling to floor diagram of the continental rift, or Great Rift Valley. The rift runs from Ethiopia to Tanzania before fading out into Mozambique. Lake Manyara is the only conservation in Tanzania where the rift is visible and we were just about to see it for the first time (or maybe my first time because I had a nap in the car on the way there). But any who, back to the good stuff, today was an interesting day in comparison to the rest – because not only was it much quieter in the way of safari cars, but it was desolate in the way of animals too. Other than the many baboons we saw, parked in the middle of the dirt road, and many wildebeests spread out over the vast land – we only saw a family of hippos, with their babies, and a couple giraffes. One giraffe in particular stood tall, in the middle of the road on our way back to the exit. Willium parked farther away than most of the other animals as not to scare (him) – and it’s a good thing he did, because it was the longest giraffe encounter we had for the books.

Sixth stop, Masai Village, estimated time, 1 hour.

The perfect opportunity to break up the excessive time spent in the car… however, it was nothing like I was anticipating it to be and I don’t think it is something I would do again. While I am a firm believer in traditions within a family or culture, I do not particularly agree with the traditions within the Masai tribes. When we first arrived, we were asked to pay 40,000 TSH or about 17 USD each for a donation – they said they would use this money for their education, books for the kindergarten classroom and/or school fees, and how can you say no to the opportunity for an education?
After we paid, we were welcomed by a young man in his early thirties who spoke pretty good English, however I was taken back by the fact that he had two thumbs on one hand. Later in the tour, we learned that many of the men marry more than one bride – often times they can be their sisters or someone related, so a lot of the tribes are inbred. The men and women within a Masai tribe wear Masai blanket or shuka as a way of identification through their dress.

Women dress in a blue or purple shuka.

Men wear all shades of red.

Young boys and girls who are pre-circumcision wear a shade of black.

And those who are about to be circumcised, wear a black shuka with white tribal face paint.

On our drive from Lake Manyara to the Masai village, we passed a group of young boys, who couldn’t be older than 12, standing on the side of the road,

in black shukas and white tribal face paint.

The process of being circumcised starts at a very young age within Masai villages and is a very painful procedure, according to one of our current students who was circumcised when she was 10 years old. However, circumcision is not the only thing that is done to young children. In some Masai tribes across Tanzania, young girls are married off to other members of the tribe before they’ve reached puberty – believing that when a young girl reaches that point in her life, she is ready to have children.

But on a brighter note -

The music and dance is still very much alive and beautiful to experience.

When we got out of the car, we were dressed up in red and blue colored shukas and bejeweled with beautiful beaded necklaces before being shown over to the side. In front of us was a large group of the village, dressed in their traditional wear – lined up and starting to sing.

“This is their welcome song, for you” – and it was a beautiful harmony of bass and melody in Swahili. Before we knew it, we were being ushered over to the group of women where we participated in a jumping dance (as one). I actually found it pretty difficult to keep jumping, haven’t done it since I was a child, however, the men of the village jumped three to five times as high with minimal effort.

We were then shown around the village itself, squeezing ourselves into their homes, which the women had built. The homes consisted of sticks, mud and hay – to cover one tiny room, where a bed made out of slabs and a small cooktop stood. That small hut was the home to a mother and her however many kids. It was unclear if the men of the home slept there or not.

Oh my goodness, it was hot.

We were only in there for a few minutes and I was covered in a layer of sweat, to put it nicely.

Lastly, we were guided over to the pond, where a bare-boned wood structure filled with kindergarten students sang the alphabet in Swahili. One little girl in particular was a bit older than the rest; her job was ‘caretaker’ while the other learned the education foundations.

Just as we were leaving, one Masai turned to me and told me if I married him, he would give me a cow – I know he was only kidding but only a cow?

Time to go home.

Seventh stop, back to Moshi, estimated, 2 hours and 30 minutes

After we left the Masai village, it was back to Moshi via Arusha. I still can’t seem to wrap my head around the view from Lake Manyara to Moshi; it was like a scene from Tuscany, Italy. Rolling hills, filled with crops ranging from dark brown, purple and rich forest green, lined the roads, remaining untouched.

On the way, we stopped at a gas station to pick up a Coca-Cola for Willium and so the others can use the toilet (they don’t use the term restroom here, because it is often just a toilet). I sat in the car and waited. While I sat there, two young children approached me. Their words to me were:

Kids: “You give me a pencil.”

Me: “Pole (sorry), I don’t have a pencil.”

Kids: “You give me a pen?”

Me: “Pole, I don’t have a pen to give you.”

Though I felt bad not being able to give them a pencil, I couldn’t help but think of how white tourists have created this sort of stereotype that now all children in rural Tanzania think they will be given something by the tourists that pass through. As my music played in my ear, I drifted back into thought…

It was an incredible experience.

One for keeps.

Photos: Safari means Adventure

katedunlevy — Sun, 5 Mar 2017 12:00:00 GMT

Pictures taken while on safari in beginning of March. (I own the rights to these photographs)

Entry No. 5: One I'll Never Forget

katedunlevy — Mon, 27 Feb 2017 00:00:00 GMT

Something pretty special.

In attempts to walk you through my day,

complete with sense of emotion would be a bit difficult,

but I will try my best.

Pick up time 10:30 am, on the dot.

Sophie, our guide, is at the gate.

Sophie is a pretty remarkable woman. She is 25 years old and is in the process of trying to start her own safari company, entirely run by women. The thing that’s really special about Sophie is that through her obstacles, she still keeps moving forward with a smile on her face. While she was in school, studying how to run her own business, her sponsor expected a different kind of compensation – and though it meant losing her chance for an education,

she said no.

When we first met Sophie, tens of volunteers ago, she was just riding next to a GHTA volunteer on a bus to Arusha at night.

When the bus broke down, all of the passengers were stranded with no alternative transportation.

Sophie took the volunteer to Arusha herself and then showed her around the city.

No doubt that Sophie is now our go-to guide for anything adventure.

But the even better thing, she is fully sponsored by a group of women who want to see her succeed and ask for nothing in return.

And so the adventure begins.

Drive to Materuni village, drop off point; estimated 25-30 minutes - more time is factored in for the unpredictability and rocky road conditions.

Once you leave town, all bets are off.

As we started to ascend into the depths of Kilimanjaro, you definitely got to experience the full affect of an ‘African massage’. Sophie called the ride our own personal African massage because of all the rocks and divots in the road that caused the car to shake and bounce non-stop – you had to grab a strong hold onto whatever you could.

An easy way to make friends nonetheless, meet Danny, to my left and Conor to my right. Danny, a 36 year old, is originally from Cuba and former associate creative director for Disneyworld. Danny moved here in January and plans to start his own safari company, setting his sights on the Serengeti. Conor, a 24 year old solo traveler is spending his time volunteering in various positions around Tanzania. He is in Moshi for the next couple days, while he completes the Kilimanjaro Marathon.

As we drove, deeper into the foothills, we became more and more engulfed in the vibrant overgrown forest filled with apricot, avocado, banana, coconut, and mango trees. We passed many little villages that looked as though they had been abandoned and starting to deteriorate but to our surprise, they are communities thriving with the local tribe, Chagga. Children played along side the road, in the fields with their friends while the elders (both men and women) carried their goods up and down the road to sell to vendors.

It’s something pretty special to witness a woman in her late eighties doing the work and carrying the weight just as she would’ve when she was younger.

Shortly after, we were out of the car and making way further into the hills on foot up narrow dirt paths. Attempting to take in all that I see –I was mesmerized by all that surrounded me. Sophie led the line, as Conor, Lucy and Sumi followed closely behind. Danny and I found ourselves breaking from the line to take advantage of photo opportunities as we walked. As we came up to a clearing, we looked out to see that we were the only ones in the midst of the tropical forest that continuously grew around us. We looked out to the luscious rolling hills, filled with life in all its forms: the town below, bustling, communities in the hills filled with people, and wildlife roaming in this place they call home.

I hear water.

We were close and we knew it.

“The water in this stream is from the waterfall, it’ll take us there” Sophie said.

And that’s just what we did; as our narrow dirt path ran along the flowing stream, we walked – meeting locals and visitors from near and far. Crossing over bridges formed by slabs of tree nailed together, up hills and around a bend.

One last big hill, a slippery slope.

There it was.

Majestic in all its glory, the largest waterfall on Mount Kilimanjaro –

Pictures don’t even do it justice.

Ndoro waterfall could take your breath away. It stood, tall, dropping glacier water from 100 meters into a pool at its base. After Sumi’s reaction of saying her brain could’ve potentially been frozen I changed my mind of going in and it’s a good thing because it started to drizzle. Soon that drizzle changed to rain.

Then the rain turned to MONSOON.

Priority: make sure camera stays dry; don’t care too much about all the rest.

Funny thing is I didn’t expect it to continue at that intensity for very long – thankfully the camera remained undamaged though the rest of my body was drenched and covered in mud by the time we came across a village off the main road. At first, I thought we were just taking shelter from the storm, on the porch of a cement house who’s steps led down to the village below - but we ended up staying. (I was bitterly cold at this point; everything except my camera was wet. Thankfully I had a semi-dry towel in my backpack that acted as a shall to generate some sort of warmth).

An elderly woman walked in and out her home to a hut next door, laying out a very large selection of food for the taking: spiced rice, white rice, beans, beef stew, hot peppers, sautéed spinach, softened plantains and a colorful plate of fresh avocado, cucumber, mango and watermelon.

To say it was delicious would be an understatement.

I was incredibly thankful at that point, not only for shelter but for the wonderful hospitality of the locals and the incredible meal they provided.

After going back for seconds, we were introduced to bwana kahawa, or mister coffee (man).

Mister coffee man, a Chagga local about 33 years old, knew everything there is to know about their plantation. He explained the many depths of the bean to cup process. Just then, the rain stopped and the clouds cleared, perfectly timed.

There are three shells to a coffee bean, the first one, a red berry, is removed in a device that separates the bean from it’s shell by the turning of a wheel. The second layer, that looks similar to a peanut, is broken off in a process consisting of a large wooden pestle and mortar.

At first, he brought an open basket of pale colored beans over to our table, asking us to peal off the shell. A difficult task unless you use your teeth - However, definitely not edible. It was only when we got down to the base of the village, that we were able to hold the wooden mortar and have a go ourselves. As we bashed the beans, young locals joined in, in song, clapping their hands together in unison.

So many smiles.

Especially the littlest one of us all, a young girl from the village (no name, sadly), standing in the circle, clapping her hands together as she bounced in between me and Sophie.

After the beans were removed from their shell, we needed to separate them from the remaining dusty substance. Using the half basket from before, mister coffee man flipped the contents and they eventually separated. hakuna matata, no problem. Next stop was removing the third layer in the makeshift stove on top of an open flame in a small brick kitchen.

Warmth.

With lots of continuous stirring…

We watched the coffee beans go from pale white to brown, in a matter of minutes.

It was that dark golden brown that we all envisioned coffee beans would look light right after being roasted. The smell that filled that small room was amazing, the smoke however was thick and a bit hard to handle (no ventilation system).

Soon enough, it was back to the pestle and mortar, where we helped break up our coffee beans into a powder substance. This powder could be used to create coffee candy or coffee itself. Setting a small portion aside, they took the rest back into the kitchen where a small pot was boiling. He poured the remaining powder into the pot, gave it a stir, and there it was… coffee ready for drinking.

And my goodness was it good.

Nothing like a hot cup of coffee to warm the body up right!

Time to go back home.

Just before we were getting ready to leave, we sat down with all the locals to ask them about their experiences here and about their lives. Many of the men in the village have families and couldn’t be older than 22-25 years old. One man, Joseph has two kids and he is only 22 years old. Crazy.

As I walked down to thank the villagers below, the young little girl greeted me. When I bent down to give her a hug goodbye, she kissed me on the cheek. Perfectly timed by Sophie, as she captured the moment that I will always remember.

This trip will always remain a warm memory, one I am very thankful to have been a part of.

Lastly: when we were walking back to the car, I passed a building that said ‘Facebook pub’ on it – and when I went to take a picture, a local stepped in for a ‘SELFIE!’ as he carried a heavy bag of melons on his head.

Even though I was drenched and covered in mud, in the end, I wouldn’t have had the day any other way.

Entry No. 4

katedunlevy — Wed, 22 Feb 2017 00:00:00 GMT

Depart.

Estimated travel time by foot is thirty minutes.

As we open the door to the compound and walk out into the Tanzanian heat, we turn to say – tutaonana baadaye to the guards.

When first walking out of the compound, you are often bombarded with a strong smell of burning trash – low and behold, a large pile of trash, plastic bags and bottles included, burns and produces a stench followed by a thick cloud of smoke.

Side note: Tanzanians do not have any sort of trash pickup service.

While the price of taxes is often included in what you purchase in a store, Tanzanians often don’t pay taxes every year like we do.

That being the case, there is no additional money in the system to pay for

certain things like trash pickup or recycling.

In public places, there usually aren’t any trashcans

(except in westernized parts of the country like major cities).

Trash is often sprawled out over dirt roads,

while black plastic bags get stuck wherever they can take hold.

Okay, back to the walk.

Over rocks, boulders and bits of trash imbedded in the rust-colored dirt - down the road and around a couple corners, we empty out onto the main road. The main road (which takes you to the airport) is paved throughout, before dropping off into draining canals on each side.

Hop over the stone walled canal, look left, look right, cross the street, and hop over again.

Note: Traffic travels on the left side of the road.

Off to the left, around the shack set up with seats in the shade, we start to walk down a dirt path to avoid the chaos of the first ‘keep lefty’ (roundabout) but instead find ourselves dodging ‘flycatchers’. ‘Flycatchers’ are men who walk up next to you and try to start a conversation with you – usually with an end goal of trying to sell you a safari (safari in Swahili means a journey/trip) or something they are carrying in their backpack. In a society where the word 'no' is rarely used and considered disrespectful, we say asante and walk away. Once across the road, we pass an old Tanzanian man who has set up Tinga-style and other paintings along the wire fence, trying to make a living by selling to tourists who walk by. Across the street is a building being built, it reads ‘complex’ at the top. The interesting thing about buildings being built in Moshi, or Tanzania for that matter, is that their scaffolding is made solely out of wood and rope. While I’m sure many of the workers are aware of the risks before they start working eight floors off the ground, it is very unsettling seeing that is all that lays underneath them. As we walk down towards the next ‘keep-lefty’, in the dirt along the paved road, we pass many more nightclubs, bars, and trade-shops (woodwork, ironwork, etc.).

Town.

The clock tower, in the center of Moshi, is the point that all of town wraps itself around. While it acts as a point for those who may use its presence as a beacon, it also provides an opportunity for exploration down different roads leading to many different destinations. On many shaded sections of the curved structure, locals have set up their goods to sell to those who walk by; anything from whole pineapples from a cart (only for $1.50), grapes to refurbished shoes, second-hand clothing and plastic sunglasses.
If one were in search for a grocery store, they would travel down the first road on the left. Nakumatt, a Kenyan based grocery store, is the largest in town: they sell your traditional needs and supplies like any other store, as well as, patio furniture, clothing, kitchen supplies and books. This is where you can get credit for your sim card, get cash at the ATM, buy a ticket to Nairobi or stock up any overpriced souvenirs. Across the street is Kilimanjaro Coffee Company, where we go to eat some Chips Mayai (an omelet with French fries cooked into it, it is SO GOOD, but then again, how can it not be?) and have delicious iced coffee (their version is a spin on an affogato, can’t go wrong).

If one were looking for the post office, they would travel up to the right from the clock tower. Further up the street you’d find Give A Heart To Africa’s two co-operatives: Moshi Mamas and Lala Salamas. Even farther up the steep road from there, you would come across a tiny store called Aleems. Aleems is a westernized grocery store that includes the good stuff like pesto and oatmeal at an up-marketed price. Just outside, set up in a metal shelving unit is a fantastic fruit stand, run by a small, old Tanzanian woman who doesn’t speak any English - where I have been able to get some of the best mangoes I’ve ever had for 50 cents.

Lastly, single road and double road run parallel up to the right – where many different possibilities await. Though, as you walk up double road, on either side of the street, you will find that your dirt footpath is actually quite limited. You are sandwiched between those who bring their goods to sell on the street (mostly second-hand clothing, refurbished shoes, or corny posters about love and church) and the heavily travelled road packed with cars and dala-dalas. As you walk, looking at your feet to make sure you don’t step on anything, men in shops welcome you in Swahili, hoping to sell you something along your travels to the dala-dala station. Piki-pikis lay back on their bikes, while having a drink, just outside gas stations, calling out to us in English as we walk by, hoping to get a reaction. The dangerous thing about piki-pikis is in their nickname, they are notoriously known for being pick-pocketers as well as grabbing bags as they drive by on their motorcycles. Although they are a cheap option for locals to get around town, safety comes at a cost. We have been warned not to ride on a piki-piki because of the many accidents that go un-noticed where the passenger wasn’t wearing a helmet.

On a brighter note, the great thing about Moshi is its display of religion.

As you walk down double road, you will pass a mosque and a Hindu temple just a few meters from each other.

As if the differences in religion do not play a segregated role like they do in the United States

- It is very refreshing.

Though, considering the overwhelming and chaotic sense of double road, I often find myself traveling up single road when needed. Other than the bus and dala-dala station (where we have caught a bus to Arusha for $1.50), there are only two other destinations up the road that I’ve set my sights on: Tatu Rafiki and Union Coffee.

… Which I’m sure will change the more time I spend here.

Tatu Rafiki, three friends, is a small little shop in a hostel that I heard about through another volunteer – and by far one of my favorite finds of Moshi. Tatu Rafiki is operated by three deaf Tanzanians who make batik, clothing, bags, and accessories. When you first walk in, you are immediately welcomed by their hospitality and smiles, it is a delightful experience and they will go out of their way to make exactly what you want, the way you want it (just need to make sure to use a lot of hand gestures). I purchased a bag made from a particular batik fabric that they made and I walked out with a very big smile on my face, also only having spent about $10. Before headed home, we often stop at Union Coffee just up the road past some fruit vendors. Union is another coffee shop that is marketed towards westerners, but has allegedly some of the best coffee in Northern Tanzania… I have yet to try it, sadly. Though I can vouch for their outdoor seating with a view of town and fresh fruit juice of passion fruit, pineapple, and mango.

Fresh juice flows like water here, can’t beat it.

Time to go home.

As we walk down the hill, past the shops set up on single road, we find a good spot to stand on the corner and wait in the hot sun for the dala-dala.

KCMC

‘That’s the one!’ as we wave our hands in the air, hoping that it won’t be too packed… which is either a hit or miss. If it’s packed, I am often crouched down standing on top of someone else, searching for something to hold onto – but if it’s empty, I get a seat! Either way, we climb on board, paying our standard 400 TSH or 20 cents to Ushirika, Moshi’s University. From there, we walk through the campus, down a paved road lined with Tanzania’s Christmas trees, in full bloom and down a hill to the fence that lines just outside the compound. Taking a moment to take in our surroundings, we turn to the left and see Kilimanjaro making it’s way through the clouds, just in time for dinner.

Even after a day in town when you return to the house covered in a film of dust, exhausted and possibly over stimulated by the amount of chaos in town

– I am thankful to call Moshi my place to live for the next couple months, rather than my alternative: Arusha.

Entry No. 3

katedunlevy — Fri, 10 Feb 2017 12:00:00 GMT

Home Visits: As of February 10^th, 2017

Note: You must take off your shoes before entering anyone’s home.

The thing about home visits is you really don’t know what to expect.

Having gone to my first one on the first Friday last week, I had an idea on what to compare it to – that was my mistake, comparing.

They were beyond compare.

Mery, a student in Group One, was my first home visit. She lives just a short walk from school, towards town. Off the beaten path, we walked up to a house built on to what looked like the brick foundation that never finished. The interesting thing about her house was that it was sort of just there, there was no transition from the other foundation. Her steps, lined with fresh white tile, just dropped off into the dirt; there was no landing below. As we walked up the decorative tile lined stairs, we came to the front door made of sturdy (beautiful) wood, which was open. Inside, tile lined the floors met cement built walls in this large room. This room was by far the larger one of the three; Mery also had a kitchen and a separate smaller room for sleeping. Rhiannon, Ben, Lucy and I sat on plastic chairs, along side one table set against the wall in the large room, while Mery and Fraha (one of our wonderful translators) sat on construction barrels. Mery is 43 years old. She is a current student of the organization, who manages her own business (where she makes delicious chapatti!). Mery is a single mother of five children; the youngest, Abigail, is five years old. Deborah, her next daughter is eighteen years old, does not work and lives at home. Mery, works full time, manages her own business, takes care of her children and still manages to come to GHTA. Inspiring.

Jescer, is one of our younger students, she is 22 years old and is studying in Group Two. Jescer lives with her mother, father, her sister, Rose (20 years old), and her little brother, Clayton (7 years old).

Jescer’s home visit was far away from home.

After a 13 minute walk down to the Keys Hotel, a ride on the dala-dala, a walk through the market, cross the railroad tracks, turn right, walk down a long road past industrial factories, down another long road with no shade, around a bend on the edge of the forest, and past the dump-

We came up to a very run-down building, set on a mound of dirt, at the end of the road. This building, made of crumbling concrete and a zinc-plated roof, had only one hardly working bathroom and more than a dozen rooms, rooms where families live.

… One that Jescer and her family live in.

The thing about Jescer’s family that is hard to grasp is what they had – they previously owned a home in Arusha, where they lived comfortably with many rooms. But after losing it to the bank, they had to pick up all their belongings (sold what they could) and moved here, to this one room. Jescer’s father currently sells onions in the market in Moshi Town (a 40 minute walk), transporting them back and forth each day. While Jescer’s mother stays at home to take care of the youngest, Clayton.

One room.
How they managed to fit two wooden loveseats and a chair (from their previous home) along with an assortment of other pieces to sit on, in that room is unbelievable. It was tight courters.

To divide the rooms hung a bright pink sheet with red velvet roses on it. As we sat there, talking, it barely moved (no air circulation)– on the other side were buckets of their kitchen supplies stacked on top of each other alongside a bed. It was believed that Jescer and her sister, Rose slept on the couches where we sat. Just outside, was their ‘stove’, a coal fire with one pot propped on top.

Though they might not have a lot, they will give what they can.
Jescer had made us a delicious dish combination of rice and seasoned beans from their little stove just outside the door.

Jescer wants to be a tailor when she graduates from GHTA.

It is inspiring. It is a lot coming from a family with little to nothing, where they have to hang their laundry on the electrical wires outside the room. Where they live with no lights, in a small room with cracked cement floors with no ventilation. Where someone is rationing how much water they use with a padlock on their water stout. Where they share a bathroom with at least a dozen other families. Where she walks an hour to come to Give A Heart To Africa to get an education.

Entry No. 2

katedunlevy — Wed, 8 Feb 2017 12:00:00 GMT

Day Three of Teaching: February 8^th, 2017

A much better start to the day, thankfully.

It is amazing what an eye mask can do to one’s sleep capacity.

This morning, I completed an hour of mathematics very similar to my first day with group one. To get a better understanding of the level each student was at, I assigned an assessment of equations (addition, subtraction, estimation, multiplication and division) – for group two. Group two has been constructed based on their English proficiency but also willingness to engage in class discussion. They are wonderful to teach.

Don’t get me wrong, this opportunity as a whole, is a wonderful teaching experience. However, while I am able to start from the basics and really build the knowledge of group one, I am able to have more fun and flexibility with group two.

Eighteen Students.

And I thought Group One was ambitious. Eighteen students in a classroom that is meant to fit 12 respectfully, is a tight squeeze. But that doesn’t stop these women; no matter if they are sitting on your neighbors lap, they will be there. Ready.

The powerful thing about this particular program is giving the women an environment where they feel safe to learn. Education here is much different than the United States, or anywhere in the world for that matter (present day). In school, young girls are often hit with a ruler on the hand if they answer a question incorrectly or make a mistake. The women that come through this program are often very timid and shy to answer questions, worried of potentially answering it wrong.

I want to try and change that.

So, during each introduction of students, I have (and will continue to) set the expectations of the classroom:

- Try your best and if you make a mistake, it is okay! Try again.

- If you don’t understand, ask the teacher(s).

- Don’t be afraid to ask questions.

- Have fun.

... Oh and write in pencil.

That’s the thing about math; it can be a bit messy. And I probably will continue to remind the women in this program is that their notebooks are not going to be perfectly neat, and that is okay too.

English Conversation.

As part of our jobs as being the teacher, we must continue to engage the students in English conversation, in and out of the classroom. Just before our math lesson was ending for the day, I asked the students if they had any questions – and rather than getting questions about the math assessment we had reviewed, I got many more questions about myself…

What is your favorite fruit? I loved this question in particular because when I answered 'Mango and Pineapple here is delicious', they all smiled and clapped as if they were betting on my response. But it gets even better when they asked what is your favorite food in Tanzania? And I answered Chapatti (it’s like if pita bread and a corn tortilla had a baby as Lucy says) – They all laughed and cheered. I always enjoy watching the students reactions when I say something on the funny side, or just in general.

Break.

As I sat on the landing outside the classroom, grading the assessments I had passed out in class, I was mesmerized by my surroundings. Upendo, a student in my classroom, was sitting in the doorway of the children’s room, learning how to bead a bracelet while entertaining her eight-month-old baby. Another student, Hidaya is walking around with her partially-made bracelet as her one-year-old sleeps peacefully on her back. Joshua, a two year old, is running around, trying to entertain himself while Mary, the child caregiver, cleans. When he sat down next to me, I thought it was a curiosity of what I was doing, but no. He wanted my phone! He wanted a picture taken of himself, but wouldn’t sit still for it.

End Break.

When I get back into Vocations, I decided that I was going to do more than just sit at the head of the class and talk to them in English – I was going to have them teach me, how to make the bracelet they were learning. Man, was I glad I did.

It was a rewarding experience, both interacting with the women and actually creating something material out of the day. The bracelet that I made, as well as any other the women have made, will be brought to the organization’s co-op Moshi Mamas where it will be sold to help benefit our students.

Photos: Touch The Sky: Photography Opportunities in TZ

katedunlevy — Mon, 6 Feb 2017 12:00:00 GMT

A random selection of photographs I've taken while staying in Tanzania.

Just The Start.

katedunlevy — Mon, 6 Feb 2017 12:00:00 GMT

Day One of Teaching: February 6^th, 2017

And I have to say, was I NERVOUS.

I hardly slept at all the morning of, but then again, I’m sure that had something to do with adjusting to sounds here: Rooster calls starting at three in the morning, the house alarm going off once the power came back on, calls to prayer at sunrise... Oh and the sound of goats mating (which is actually a really disturbing sound).

But that’s not important in the grand scheme of things.

Let me tell you about that moment when I met the women for the first time (outside of the welcome meeting where Rhiannon introduced me as the new volunteer for three months).

8:35 in the morning

They all started pouring in through the compound door, decoratively colored in an interesting selection of bright colors. Each of the women has come to school by either a dala-dala (public van that runs throughout the many neighborhoods of Kilimanjaro), or walking – maybe a little of both! Some women travel as much as three dala-dalas and walking to get to the school, totaling roughly an hour commute (give or take). However, no matter how far they have travelled, they arrived with a smile on their face. Every time each one of them crossed my path as I stood out on the terrace, they said welcome or good morning without any hesitation, still with a smile on their face.

Each morning, before class starts, different groups of women are assigned cleaning jobs throughout the school – which they do without complaining. It really amazes me, how these women do what they have to do with what they have. Floors are cleaned with a cloth and nothing else, as they bend over and use their hands to get the job done, waning back and forth. And paths are swept with makeshift hand brooms, constructed of some form of twig tied together with string. They clean until it’s time for class.

9:00 in the morning

This morning was the student’s first examination, throughout the whole school. Only two of the students who started in the classroom at 9:00 am remained in class for the rest of the day. The students who were in class for the examination were selected based on their group to ensure that no student of the same group sat next to each other.

Once the exam was over, it was time for mathematics.

Today’s students were from group one, the lowest English proficiency in the program. As the women walked in, I made sure I was standing at the door to greet each and every one of them.

Habari za asubuhi!

I say and they all looked at me with delight that I managed to say good morning correctly – as they made their way to their seats. This classroom was the smallest one of the three classrooms. Two tables and four benches lie in the middle of the classroom – the only space available is so you can squeeze in between the two and walking to/from the door. Tricky.

But that didn’t stop the women from sitting right down and pulling out their partially torn, worn out notebooks. They were there to learn and nothing was going to stop them.

First and foremost, I wanted to introduce myself to the women and make sure they felt comfortable in the classroom with a new teacher. I opened the floor for questions where they asked me many of questions to get to know me.

Questions like: How old are you? Are you married? Do you have children? (When answered no-) Do you have a fiancé? Why not? …And of course the infamous question of whether or not I like Donald Trump.

Once we had completed our introductions, I was able to ease into an assessment that I wanted to present the students. I wanted to start them off with this right in the beginning to help determine how much math they know so I could have a better understanding on where to start. After I explained my expectations and the directions, which were then translated in Swahili by Zuwena (a graduate of GHTA), the students were given a sheet of loose-leaf paper where they could show their work. Once prompted to start, they got right to work and worked hard until they were done.

However, when everyone was finished and it was time to review, I noticed that a lot of students had little to no understanding of carrying over in addition, borrowing in subtraction, estimation and division.

Now I know where to start.

The remainder of class was dedicated to vocations, where the students learn how to make things to sell (either in the organization’s co-op Moshi Mamas or independently). Zuwena teaches this part of the class. She learned almost all of what she teaches through her previous classes at the school, in 2014. Today the students were starting a new vocational skill: beading. In the previous weeks, each group had the opportunity to make (beautiful) batik drapery, which has since been sold in Moshi Mamas. As an introductory lesson to learning about beading, Zuwena wanted to teach them the tools necessary to make a bracelet, in this case a ‘flower bracelet’. These tools included: A needle, string (fishing line), various color beads, and a clasp.

To me, it was a privilege to be in the classroom when they are learning what they typically sell to western travelers. It was really fascinating to see the amount of detail and precision in each selection. However, consistency in colors and the combination of colors is going to need some catering to. That is something to work on.

What I love is that they are eager to learn. Which is exactly what I wanted when coming here, and having wanted to come here for so long – to teach in a classroom where students want to learn.